


A Good Man

by verityshu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bucky Barnes Remembers, First Time, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutant Powers, Mutants, Original Character(s), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve, Sexual Content, Some Plot, Tokyo (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verityshu/pseuds/verityshu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not an easy road to atonement for the things the Soldier has done but Bucky and Steve are trying together. When Bucky recalls a particularly horrifying episode while in Tokyo, involving someone dangerous, the repercussion is not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story does follow the same universe as 'We just now got the feeling', but it's not necessary to read that to read this. 'A Good Man' can be read as a standalone.
> 
> If you would like to still read it first - http://archiveofourown.org/works/1804723/chapters/3871372

Shinjuku Station in Tokyo was the most baffling and busiest place Steve had ever been. The sheer number of people walking purposefully to their intended destinations was astonishing and would beat Penn Station hands down even during the latter’s peak hours. 

Train signs, thankfully, came in English too but there were a dizzying array of them and color-coded for different trains heading towards to different parts of the city. Steve really did not want to look like a distressed tourist, clutching a copy of the subway map, perusing which transfer to take to their hotel, while standing at one of the several labyrinthine tunnels that made up this enormous station.

“Sumimasen,” a voice interrupted as the fifth person, since they’ve been standing there, bumped against him.

“Sorry,” he called out but the person had already hurried off.

“You doing okay?” Bucky turned to him after he had been examining a row of pastries displayed in a tiny shop next to a row of similarly other small shops located within the station. 

Hair having grown to almost the same length when he had been the Winter Soldier and clad in a t-shirt, dark grey hoodie and gloves, with army boots and a duffel bag over his shoulder, he was drawing surreptitious glances from commuters as they streamed around the two. 

There were other foreigners mingling in the crowd and he was dressed more conservatively but Steve still felt so big, blonde and conspicuous. 

“Just culture shock,” he replied, smiling faintly. 

He wasn’t a stranger to cosmopolitan cities; he was Brooklyn born and bred. Lived in DC. He had been around most of Europe during the war and was deployed abroad when needed for Shield missions. He fought against Red Skull and Hydra and alien beings for crying out loud.

Still, something about Tokyo and its claustrophobic ambiance just got to him. It was stupid, he hadn’t had an asthma attack since he had the serum, but he felt almost as if the onset of one was coming on.

The ride on the express train from the airport had been pleasant though, as they passed by low fields, farms and houses. Once they hit the outskirts of Tokyo, the landscape changed to one of tall skyscrapers, electric lines, signboards with faces of Japanese, along with well-known American, actors or models advertising the latest technology, drinks or products, and concrete and brick buildings clustered together tightly, underneath a grey sky. 

Bucky leaned in and squeezed his arm. If they weren’t in public, Steve thought Bucky would have most likely kissed him. 

“C’mon, we’re supposed to take the Yamanote line to Ikebukuro. The hotel’s a five minutes’ walk from there.” The Japanese words rolled off Bucky’s tongue easily with perfect inflection and Steve couldn’t help but wonder if this was another facet of the Winter Soldier coming out. 

His friend took a quick look at the signs around them and pointed out one with a green line which spelt _Yamanote_ on it. 

“Over there.” 

“I’m impressed.” 

“Easy peasy. I’ll get you there safe, Rogers. Don’t I always?” Bucky gave one of his rare grins, he didn’t smile much nowadays, and Steve felt a rush of love, affection and all those sappy emotions surging inside of him. He nearly gave in to his desire to pull the other man in for that aborted kiss. 

Bucky moved a step backwards, “Not here, you lug. You wanna cause a riot? What’s with you and these,” he mentally searched for the phrase, “-public displays of affection?” 

“I think Natasha happened. We kissed on an escalator in a mall before.”

“You kissed Romanov?” he rumbled, his face showing displeasure and was that jealousy? 

“ _She_ kissed me and it was to distract Brock Rumlow and his men, who were looking for us,’ Steve quickly corrected.

“Hmph.”

“Sorry?” 

“Whatfuckingever.” Bucky stomped off towards the direction of the steps leading up to the train platform and the breathing tide of humanity around them somehow automatically parted for him. 

Okay, definitely jealousy, Steve concluded as he followed quickly.

It was strange, in a way, Captain America was universally assumed to be the prude and yes, he was probably a little…old-fashioned in certain behaviors, but Bucky was the one who would only kiss him when they were alone or sometimes display open affection only in front of those they knew well. 

The Bucky from before the war used to be handsy with the dames when he could get away with it, at the dance halls or in the flickering dark of a movie theatre, but Steve didn’t mind or cared. Some things had changed and some things hadn’t. That was how things stood between them at this point and Steve wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

They had been searching for about four months. Since Bucky had started regaining his memories, the good and the truly bad ones, he had decided he needed to track the families of the Winter Soldier’s targets and let them know the truth behind the deaths. 

Steve had, more or less, forced Bucky to let him come along. There was no chance he was letting him leave and not knowing when he will be back. 

During the relatively short ride on the transfer train, Bucky very pointedly ignored him.

When they finally reached the hotel, a modest but still agreeable looking place off a bustling street, there was a brief moment of anxiety that he would be recognized as Captain America by the staff checking them in. But other than a polite smile, wishing them a pleasant stay in English, the immaculately groomed woman in a uniform behind the front desk just passed them their card keys. Maybe the glasses he wore helped.

Inspecting the hotel room, he was glad to see it wasn’t too tiny as most online reviews of the place had said it would be, and the bathroom was spotless so that was good. There was a queen-sized bed and thankfully, it looked big enough to accommodate two grown men. A swift check of the perimeter ensured the room was more or less secured, the only point of entries being the door or the window which could only be locked from the inside, and they were on the eleventh floor with no fire escape outside.

Steve had thought of asking for twin beds but chided himself. Bucky and he were in a relationship, even if they hadn’t gone beyond the makeout stage, as nice as kissing was. There had been some naked showers together but other than a lot of ardent rubbing and soaping, they had kept it mostly chaste. Mostly.

“Natasha said I was a bad kisser,” he offered to a hitherto silent Bucky who was unpacking his duffel bag. Actually he was just flinging it onto the floor and kicking it to one side.

Bucky muttered something underneath his breath. It was suspiciously Russian sounding. 

Steve walked over to where he was and slid arms around his waist. He was encouraged when the man didn’t push him away and started to kiss his neck in small little pecks, nosing his ear. Bucky sighed and placed his hands over Steve’s, without turning around.

“No more kissing Natasha, you hear? Or anyone else.” 

“Roger that,” he agreed, between kisses.

“Oh, you’re a real comedian.” 

“But I’m your comedian?”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Bucky finally twisted in his arms and turned to give him a long, possessive kiss. Steve was uncomfortably hard in his pants when they drew apart. 

It was noticed. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine.” If he wasn’t ready, Steve would not press the issue. 

Right then, Bucky yawned. He shut his mouth quickly when he realized. 

“Tired?”

“Some.” A mulish expression accompanied the admission.

Except enhanced soldiers like them don’t get tired unless pressed to the absolute limits of their augmented physiology. A thirteen hour plane ride, even sitting in coach, would not have tired Bucky out. There had been some skirmishes since they went on the road, with those who either had a grudge against the Winter Soldier or just wanted to collect him for their own uses, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. 

The weariness, he surmised, arose from the combined pressure and stress of tracking the families of the targets he had killed, seeing their faces as he told them he was the man who killed their father, mother, sister, brother, son or daughter and why he had to do it, and not sleeping as much.

More times than he would have liked, Steve woke to find the side of the bed empty, and Bucky staring out the window of whatever place they were for the night. 

“Think you can catch some shut-eye?” he asked.

“Mmm, lie down with me?” Bucky had already toed off his boots and was pulling his t-shirt off before flopping down onto the bed. Steve slipped in behind him and Bucky wriggled until his back was nestled comfortably against a broad chest.

“Jiro Akamatsu. He was my target in nineteen sixty-five. He was a scientist in charge of a prototype that was to revolutionize atomic energy, trying to make it safe and sustainable. But some big-ass corporation didn’t want it accessible, not until they developed the process themselves and had sole rights to it. So they contracted me out,” Bucky was saying as he idly traced patterns onto Steve’s open palm with a finger.

“Akamatsu had a daughter. She was nine, ten then. They stayed in a suburb around here. She could still be there. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sleep now.” Steve lightly kissed one bare shoulder, on the spot where the flesh stopped and metal began, a few times. Bucky’s eyes fluttered close and his breathing evened out.

Steve remained awake and after a while, he got up as quietly as possible, to pick the discarded hoodie and t-shirt from off the floor to lay them neatly over a chair before placing the boots to one side. Then he retrieved his shield out from what was essentially a round canvas bag. It had taken some finagling to assure Japanese immigrations it was a fake replica. The officer had nodded and said something that sounded like _cosupray_ and Steve just agreed to whatever that was. 

Bucky’s metal arm was surprisingly easier; they simply assumed he was a handicapped person with a technologically advanced prosthetic.

After making sure the shield was tucked safely away, he took a Stark tablet from another bag. Sitting down, he went online and connected to a private chat portal Tony had set up for the Avengers and affiliated.

Checking his contact list, only Sam was online although it would be about six in the morning in New York City right now. Deciding not to utilize the video call function in case it woke Bucky up, he typed instead.

- _Sam, you there?_ -

The reply came a minute later.

- _Hey Cap, u guys reached yet?_ -

- _Just arrived. We’re in the hotel now_ -

- _How’s Tokyo?-_

- _Big, confusing, with people who walk really fast. We took the trains. The cherry blossoms are in season, they’re very pretty_ -

- _Take photos. How’s Barnes doing?_ -

- _It’s not a holiday. He’s sleeping right now_ -

- _So even your stamina’s really super I guess. Give the poor guy a break_ -

- _Sam-_

- _^_^-_

- _Everything ok back home?_ -

- _The Widow’s left again, top secret Shield stuff apparently. Banner’s pottering around the lab, haven’t seen him in a few days. Thor’s in Asgard with Jane Foster. Hawkeye, Coke Can and me busted some killer doombots the other day in Seattle. We’re doing just fine, Captain Worrypants_ -

- _Thanks. For helping out_ -

- _Anytime. Find me one of those cat statue thingies that look like they want to beat your head in with its paw_ -

- _You got it_ -

- _U should have taken up Tony’s offer to fly u in style and the penthouse suite he wanted to bunk u while there_ -

- _The whole idea is to be incognito. A media nightmare is what we’re trying to avoid_ -

- _I have two words for you. Penthouse and Suite_ -

- _So how is Barnes really doing?_ -

Steve lifted his head and glanced at Bucky’s sleeping form, seemingly defenseless and painfully young, silhouetted against the dying light of the setting sun shining in from the window.

It had been bad enough when the kin of the Soldier’s past targets started breaking down with grief or screamed and tried to hit Bucky, who would always bear the punches stoically. The worst were the ones who would stare blankly and tell him not to come back. And the few who did thank him for letting them know, there was always an aspect of fear, resentment shown clearly on their faces as they said it. 

Bucky almost never slept for a few days after each one. Steve could only get up, hold him to keep him together.

- _Good and bad days. He’s dealing in his way_ -

- _Don’t let him get too much inside his own head. That’s never good. For anybody. Especially him_ -

- _Right_ -

- _If all else fails, sex him up till he can’t think straight_ -

- _Sam_ -

- _It’s proven mindblowing sex with your partner can be a connecting and healing factor for a recovering brainwashed mind_ -

- _Are you even serious?_ -

- _No, I’m Sam Wilson_ -

- _Har Har_ -

- _It worked for Hawkeye, right? After he was made a Loki minion. It’s a good thing the walls here at the Tower are soundproof because when Coulson comes over to stay the night.…_ -

- _I am ending this conversation_ -

- _^_^ Later. Stay safe, both of u_ -

- _Will do. Bye_ -

He missed home, he couldn’t deny it. But not going was unthinkable and would have torn his heart out, knowing Bucky was out there, alone.

Steve turned off the chat and placed the tablet down. He returned to bed and snaked his arms back around the sleeping man who murmured something unintelligible as he did, but the movements caused by the renewed snuggling were not enough to fully wake him. 

“Love you,” he mouthed into brown hair. Bucky was with him and it was enough. 

~~~~~

Mayu Akamatsu was not to be found. The typical Japanese house, two-story and compact, was vacant and from the looks of it, had been for some time. It was not decrepit or dilapidated in the way unlived houses would get but it was obvious it had not been a home to anyone for a long while.

It had happened before. Sometimes the information received was just outdated or the people Bucky was in search of had simply passed away. The Soldier had been in the field for many decades, thanks to the long cryogenic periods he had been subjected to. 

“I’ll get Tony to verify the intel again. See if she’s moved recently.” Steve took out his cell and started dialing Stark’s number. 

Bucky didn’t reply. He was looking up at the house and there was something about the place…it was like staring through a slightly out of focus sniper scope, tickling out of reach and he couldn’t quite get it in his line of sight.

“—Tony, no, we are not bringing you back a…no, no, and…check with Pepper first…could you just do a search for a Mayu Akamatsu’s whereabouts, yes…last known place of residence, one two one dash one zero nine four choo, wait, it’s chuo ku, yaseu five chome, Tokyo…yes, good to know my enunciation is funny for you…just find out what you can, alright? Thanks.”

He could hear Steve talking on the phone to Stark. He could see, or rather, sense the sudden worry and concern springing over Steve’s face once he ended the conversation and took in how fixated he was on the house. He could…

_…screaming. female. he catalogues it as he stabs the target’s stomach, tearing into the upper right quadrant of the abdomen, piercing the kidney. the knife wound must be seen as random and a result of a home invasion. the parameters of the mission were very clear. the death of Jiro Akamatsu must be regarded as such by the local authorities._

_air exhales through the target’s mouth, wheezing, as hands beat at his head and shoulders but the blows has no strength, just the reflex actions of a dying man. he withdraws the knife and let the body slides to the floor. he becomes aware someone is punching his back with fists. no damage evident._

_he turns and there is a female trying to tear at his hair and mask. he assesses her combatant status. almost none. weak. not a physical threat. but she has seen him._

_he easily dodges her blows. he calculates. it will not hurt the mission parameters if the female died. he stabs quickly._

_sudden pain roars inside his head. he drops the knife and falls to his knees in agony._

_he rips his visor and mask off. Breathe. must breathe. eyes streaming as ducts involuntarily squeezes out tears in reaction to the pain, he forces his head up through the splitting agony, and sees…a child._

_a lone girl child eyes wide and mouth gaping, standing at the door of the bedroom. the mouth is open, no discernible sounds coming out, but horrified screams are battering inside his head._

_otousanokasanotousanokasanokasan someone is shrieking over and over a string of unintelligible words, in a child’s voice with a child’s terror, a child’s fear._

_she is doing it somehow, he knows._

_the child does not move from where she is standing at the door as he crawls over. the pain is reaching to a point where he knows he would be incapacitated. he cannot fail. his masters will not be pleased. he will be punished._

_he struggles to reach for his gun and points. he cannot remember if he has killed children before._ _her screams inside grows to an excruciating crescendo_

_kid, stop the damn yelling, he says hoarsely. the gun falls..._

“Get out of my head,” he gasped out. 

“Bucky!”

He was not sure where he is, for a terrifying moment, inside of a house or standing outside of it, the sensation of blood still warm on his hand. His body was curled up into a tight ball, remnants of raw pain and a child’s screams still echoing in his head. What overlay the pain was growing horror. 

He had been ready to put a bullet in a kid; he was capable of such an act as the Soldier. 

He swung his stare back to the abandoned house. He had murdered Jiro Akamatsu and his wife in this very place. 

Bucky abruptly stood, doubled over again and started to retch. Bile passed hot and bitter out from his throat. 

When the worst was over, Steve, hovering worriedly, tried to clean his mouth. He pushed him away, saying leadenly, “I tried to kill her.” 

Steve’s face tightened. “Who?”

“Mayu Akamatsu. Jesus Christ, she was just a kid. I butchered her parents right in front of her.”

Hatred and shame threatened to overwhelm Bucky. He had known. Oh, he had read the files, meticulously documented for each of the Winter Soldier’s known kills. There had not been any children listed within those yellowed pages to more recently white sheets, and he had been grateful for the one small mercy at least. 

He had believed he could accept having been the Soldier and what he had done. He would be able to handle it, had deluded himself he could exorcise demons through this self-imposed journey, but he was wrong. His naivety was laughable. He knew now just how badly the Soldier had been damaged by the process they had used to re-make him into their personal attack dog. A dog that obeyed its masters unquestioningly, cowering when beaten, wagging its tail when it was patted for a job well done.

“Don’t touch me.” He roughly shoved Steve’s outstretched hand off where it had been grasping his shoulder.

“Bucky, I already know what you were made to do.”

"Do you really? It’s fucked up enough I’ve hunted and murdered innocent people because I was too weak, too spineless, to resist. Turns out I’ve tried to kill children too.” 

“You said you tried but you didn't? How sure are you?” 

“I did…no, I can’t—” he started and stopped. There was something uncanny about the kid. He had heard her screaming and talking inside his mind. How was that even possible? 

He searched through the fragment of memory while Steve waited patiently. A wizened old lady carrying a basket on her arm, glanced at them quickly as she shuffled past, giving both a wide berth.

“The kid, Mayu, she made me come back, made James come back. I don’t know how, she had a kinda power like…telepathy or something. She was driving her thoughts inside my head. And it hurt real bad when she did it. I figure the pain must have shocked me, maybe broke through the Soldier’s conditioning. No, I didn't do it. I _couldn't_.” The look on Steve blossomed into careful hope but the revelation he had not gone through the deed didn't make him feel any better.

“Am I going crazy?” he wanted to know.

“I’ve fought aliens from space. I know a thunder god from a place not on our Earth. Bruce changes into a green giant when he’s in a bad mood. Tony has a hole in his chest but he’s still breathing and he flies around in a metal suit. I had a serum injected into my body and it made me into Captain America. Did I mention I was comatose, under a ton of ice for over seventy years. If you’re crazy, you’re in good company.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I would never do that. Buck, you’ve done…terrible things, I’m not denying they didn’t happen. But I also know you’re aching with guilt, no matter who tells you how many times it wasn’t your fault. If you are not the fundamentally decent man I know you are, you wouldn’t be sleepless for days straight after you talk to one of the families.” 

How could Steve remain so calm and stoic, or still look at him with…such earnest understanding? 

“Maybe you don’t know me like you think you do.” 

“Maybe I know you better than you know yourself.” 

“You stubborn, obstinate, pig-headed son of a bi… _jerk_.”

“I had a good role model, growing up. You might have seen him around, goes by James Barnes.”

Bucky supposed this was why he loved Steve so goddamn awful much.

“Steve, I’m…I’m just really sorry. For not fighting hard enough when they took me. For being a fucking mess you have to clean up after.” 

He was grabbed into a hug, and he hid his face against the crook of Steve’s neck, suddenly wanting to cry like a kid.

~~~~~

They left because there was nothing else to be done. Bucky returned to being morosely quiet as they took the train to the hotel. Despite the press of people around them in the carriage, Steve would reach over and squeeze his hand quickly, uncaring of who might be looking at them. 

He was pathetically encouraged whenever Bucky squeezed back, to show he was aware and not off in some dark place where Steve could not reach out to him.

At the lobby, Steve’s phone rang. It wasn’t Tony, but Sam.

“I’ll get the key?” Bucky offered, speaking up at last.

He nodded his assent as he picked up the call and Bucky walked over to the front desk. He had sent a discreet text to Sam to let him know about what had happened at Jiro Akamatsu’s house. It was the first time Bucky had experienced such a vivid and disturbing recollection of one of his missions since he started remembering and it worried him badly. 

Hoping Sam might have anything to offer in way of his experience working with distressed veterans, he talked to him for a few minutes. 

‘I don’t know, man. It sounds a little like a PTSD flashback, they can hit fast and hard if there’s a trigger, especially associated to a traumatic event specific to the person. Seeing the house again may have done that to him. I say to come home would be your best option right now,’ Sam’s concerned tone came through the phone receiver. ‘I know someone but he’ll have to take a look at Barnes.’

“I’ll check with Bucky if he wants to. After we get verification on Mayu Akamatsu’s whereabouts from Tony. I’ll keep you posted.”

‘Speaking of which, that little girl sounds seriously creepy. Think she’s possibly a mutant?’

“It’s likely. Could you get Tony to run a search on known registered mutants as well and see if any matches come up?”

‘On it. Take care of Barnes.’

“Always.” 

He swiped the end call button just as Bucky walked towards him. 

“That Sam?”

“Yeah.” 

Bucky didn’t ask any further. 

As they went up to their room, an obviously American couple on holiday walked into the elevator with them. Steve had to give a brief awkward smile at the woman who was staring with incredulous eyes. Bucky noticed her gawking and he stared right back. 

When it was their floor, he quickly exited with Bucky still giving the woman his impression of a formerly brainwashed assassin with the countenance of an inscrutable sphinx. 

He could hear her voice, high and shrill, exclaiming _that was Captain America!_ And her companion’s prosaic reply, _nah, Avengers don’t take vacations in Japan_ , just as the lift doors pinged shut.

Bucky disappeared into the adjoining bathroom without saying a word, shutting the door behind him once he was inside. Steve heard the unmistakable sound of the shower turning on.

He exhaled a breath before going to close the curtains of the room in case the woman from the elevator happened to be staying in an adjacent floor above and was trying to peep at which room Captain America might possibly be in, and sat down on the only chair available. 

He was still sitting when Bucky ambled out from bathroom, naked as the day he was born. 

Steve had seen him nude before, when they were growing up, during the war, when they had showered together those few times so it wasn’t anything new or even startling.

What was entirely unexpected was finding himself with an armful of skin still damp Bucky, still without a stitch of clothing, on his lap. 

Without sparing any time for him to react, Bucky started to kiss him with an eager desperation. Hands cupped his jaw as a tongue flicked against his lips before forcefully penetrating his mouth. Buttocks rocked to rut against his groin, causing the fabric of his pants and briefs to drag and slide against his cock.

Arousal spiked, intense and controlling, and he became erect almost immediately. 

His hand went to the back of Bucky’s head, gripping hair and pulled. Bucky uttered an almost snarl as he was torn off Steve’s mouth, but it trailed off to a panting cry when Steve arched his upper body up, as much as he could with a full grown man’s weight pinning him down, to bite the side of his neck. 

He could feel Bucky’s thighs shuddering against his, cock rigid against his belly, wetness from the tip seeping through his shirt. And groaned when a metal hand skimmed across the cloth covering his trapped cock. Fingers teased the outline for a few minutes before slipping in between shirt and waistband to finally touch and stroke the head with a thumb. 

The initial chill of the hand shocked him briefly but then it felt so good and he wanted more. He wanted, he _needed_ to throw Bucky onto the bed, splay his legs wide and fuck him wet and open until they both…Steve broke off his ravaging of Bucky’s neck, turned his head away and sucked in a breath in an effort to clear his lust-fogged brain. 

He clutched hold of a wrist, exerting some pressure to stop the rest of the hand from those caresses.

“Buck, wait, _wait_. Why are you…why?”

“I’m not doing it right?” Bucky drew back slightly, and frowned. 

“No! You’re…perfect.”

“Good.”

The frown cleared and became a brilliant smile even as hands unbuckled Steve’s belt, quickly flicking the button of his pants open before drawing the zip down and reaching inside the slit of his briefs to bring his erection out into the air. His traitorous cock approved as it was freed of its constraints and strained towards the waiting hand eagerly. It was gripped firmly and Bucky started to slide his hand up and down with measured, agonizingly slow strokes. Rough calluses on the palm only helped to heighten the sensations to an almost unbearable peak. 

It was when Bucky slithered off his lap to kneel between thighs, giving experimental licks and shallow sucks to the head of his cock, did Steve discerned he would be coming embarrassingly soon. 

Bucky evidently realized it as well as he halted his actions and stood, pulling Steve up with him. 

“Bed,” was announced peremptorily, “and take your clothes off.”

Being told to strip shouldn’t be such a turn on but clearly, it was. He shrugged his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. His pants, boxer briefs and shoes went next. When he was fully naked, erection heavy between his legs, he couldn’t help but feel faintly ridiculous; his nudity, post-serum, always did that to him somehow. 

But Bucky hummed his approval as Steve did as he was told. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to pull his body backwards using his hands and legs as leverage. The movements should look gracelessly awkward - Steve was sure if it was him doing that, he would look like a scuttling crab - but since it was Bucky so it looked sinuous, supple and remarkably suggestive instead. 

When his back hit the headboard, eyes never leaving Steve’s, he spread his legs, soles planted flat on the bed, cock jutting shamelessly up as a hand reached to idly cup and roll the sacs beneath. 

Riveted at the graphic sight of Bucky displaying himself, his entrance shadowed but visible, Steve could feel his own cock throbbing with renewed strength.

“Fuck me,” he was ordered.

“I can’t do that!”

“You want to.” His groin was pointedly eyed and he resisted an urge to cover himself and the evidence of how much he really wanted to.

“What I want isn’t important,” he declared, “we, I mean, you, we’ve never done this before. Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?” _Since less than two hours ago, you had what could be a potential PTSD attack_ went unsaid but was thought. 

“I’m seducing you. Is it working?”

“Could you repeat that—” He came over to stand at the side of the bed and Bucky used a leg to hook the back of his knee and pulled him off-balance. He tumbled to land right between the V of Bucky’s thighs. 

The same thighs came around to bracket his hips, efficiently trapping him. Their bodies lined up almost instinctively and then there was the incredible warmth of skin plastered against his length. He drew a shaking breath as cocks involuntarily grinded together. 

Hands grabbed his head and he was drawn into another kiss, gentle this time, strangely in contrast to their ones earlier, and the body beneath him went pliant and soft. 

“I know what I want and I want you to fuck me,” murmured Bucky, between more affectionate kisses. 

Steve knew he was lost. 

“We don’t…you need to be prepared, there’s things for that.”

In reply, his hand was guided deeper between Bucky's legs, and as his fingers touched the heat there, he realized it was also slick and wet. The same hand was nudged forward and two fingers slid in easily. 

“When…?” he had to ask, even as he continued to fuck his fingers in and out of that slippery, delightful tightness.

“In the shower. There was some oil in a bottle. Cleaned myself too.” Steve almost choked as his brain helpfully supplied him with explicit images of Bucky fingering himself open. 

“Condoms?” 

“Super soldiers, yeah? Don’t think we have anything catching…” his friend laughed throatily. 

The small chuckle changed to an intake of breath as Steve withdrew the fingers and reared to his haunches. His hands seized the undersides of Bucky’s knees to push them up, wider and further apart. Bucky’s hole was fully exposed in this position, slick and glimmering with whatever he had used on himself with, and it stretched and tensed since his legs were spread so wide. 

The metal hand reached towards one of the arms baring him so vulnerably, to push or stop or encourage, and fell back to clutch the rumpled sheets instead.

“Have to tell me if it hurts you. _Please_. Okay, Buck?” he pleaded. 

“It won’t,” Bucky promised and he reached between them, took hold of Steve’s cock at the base. Guiding, like he did Steve’s hand previously, he positioned the head against his opening. “Now you gotta do the rest.”

Steve pressed in and a low, wrecked moan was torn from Bucky as he was finally breached. Stricken at the sound, not sure if he was hurting him despite what he said, Steve released his hold on one leg to run his hand up and down the metal arm soothingly. 

His penis was a decent proportion, he was aware. It hadn’t grown monstrously like some of the dirty books circulating about Captain America’s serum enhanced girth had depicted it to have been, during the war. But it was big enough and he was so hard and he selfishly forgot to ask if Bucky had ever done this before. 

“Don’t stop, stupid,” Bucky scolded and reassured at the same time as his freed leg hooked behind Steve’s back and urged him forward. 

Helpless, he rolled his back and began a rhythm, driving into the willing body, the inner flesh massaging his cock’s passage with each snap of his hips. The headboard of the bed banged against the wall in measured staccato beats and if he wasn’t almost out of his mind with the mounting desire to take Bucky apart, Steve would have been mortified at how loudly they were proclaiming their love-making to anyone staying next to them. 

“…you feel, so good, so perfect, love you, do this forever,” he mumbled disjointedly after a few particularly hard thrusts which had Bucky throwing arms around his neck in a viselike grip and clamping blunt teeth at the meaty part of his shoulder to stop a yelp from escaping. 

He lost track of how long they fucked. Sometimes they stopped moving completely, mouths and tongues tangling in drawn-out, intoxicated kisses instead. Steve still being held deep within as he stroked Bucky’s trapped erection between them, before the need to thrust overwhelm him once more. Legs would tightly wrap around his waist and Bucky would squeeze his rectum muscles in challenge, making Steve exert more vigor until he was literally hammering into the man’s body with a lack of restraint.

Eventually he couldn’t hold off the inevitable any longer, not when Bucky was a bundle of contradictions writhing beneath him, complicit and yielding at times, and hard and firm and aggressive when he wanted to be.

“Coming,” he gasped out, warning, snapping his back in a painful arch.

“Go on then,” Bucky allowed breathlessly and Steve released what felt like the longest and best orgasm of his life. 

When he was spent, he slipped out and almost collapsed on top of Bucky but twisted aside at the last second to lie next to him.

Bodies damp with perspiration, as the heat of their fuck was dying down, he was ashamed of how thoroughly he had taken his pleasure in such an animalistic fashion. Flushing scarlet and opening his mouth, a torrent of apologies ready, when Bucky grabbed his hand and pressed it to his by now flaccid and sticky cock.

“I came too. It wasn’t only you,” he sighed as Steve gently fondled the lax member. 

“Bucky, I still don’t—”

“Let's sleep awhile? Not as sprightly as I used to be,” Bucky cut him off. 

He held out his arms in an invitation and Steve moved into them, legs tangling together despite their messy states. His question why this had happened went unanswered but he guessed it would have to wait.

He felt a kiss being dropped on the top of his head and with his body pleasantly sated and feeling boneless, he let himself relax and drift off.

~~~~~

Once he was reasonably sure Steve was fast asleep, Bucky cautiously extricated himself from the embrace. The other man remained sleeping as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Standing up, he winced as he experienced an aching twinge to his lower back. 

Steve had been somewhat more energetic than he had expected, not that he regretted it. The sex had been incredible. What he regretted was he had to do it as a diversion.

Part of him was rather pleased he could rouse Steve up to a pitch where he lost control to just fuck him blind into the bed. He wasn’t sure if he could manage it since the Winter Soldier was viewed mainly as a weapon to his owners. A sexual drive wasn’t needed as part of his conditioning and could be a potential interference to his missions so they effectively neutered him during the mind wiping processes. 

His last sexual encounter had been with one of the two dames, he couldn’t remember her name, on the last night before he shipped out to the front. It had been furtive and hurried, in the tiny bedroom she had brought him back to, after they left the Expo, leaving Steve behind. They hadn’t even undressed fully during the screwing; she was still half in her dress and knickers and him in his uniform trousers. 

He had staved off anything further than kissing and making out with Steve, only because he essentially hadn’t had sex in about seven decades and he was afraid to disappoint Steve if he turned out rusty at it.

Feeling between his legs, there was a thin trail of cum trickling down one inner thigh. Grabbing a wad of tissues and wetting them at the bathroom sink, he cleaned himself as best he could before swiftly dressing. 

His anus felt slightly sore and he knew he had not completely washed Steve's ejaculate out from his body but it didn’t matter. He liked the idea of retaining this indication of what they had done for a while longer. 

The little satisfied smile hovering on his lips vanished when he reached into his pocket and withdrew the note the front desk concierge had handed to him when he had asked for the keys to their room, when they returned. Steve had been talking on the phone with Sam so it had gone undetected. He had read it. Then he folded and placed it away, out of sight.

 _Dear Mr Barnes, I am not dead. Come to Shibuya Station at four if you are looking for me._ It was written in English, in a woman’s neat handwriting.

He didn’t know if it was a trap or it really was Mayu Akamatsu and therefore still a trap, but he had to find out. He had told Steve once, before they embarked on the search, that it wasn’t his fight and the chump wouldn’t listen. 

If Mayu was indeed alive and wanted retribution for the killing of her parents, Bucky couldn’t calculate the odds of Steve successfully surviving an encounter with her. What could Captain America do, even with enhanced strength, reflexes and resilience, if the enemy had a power that could cleave your mind and leave you incapacitated in seconds? He had felt the force of her will before and she had only been a nine year old girl then. 

Pausing at the door, he looked back at the man still sleeping on the bed. Steve would realize the truth of the matter once he woke. He hoped Steve would also realize, though the sex may have been a distraction, it still meant something to him. 

“Gonna keep you safe, punk,” he said softly.


	2. Chapter 2

Shibuya, if anything, was even more crowded than Shinjuku. And most of them seemed to be Japanese teenagers in school uniforms and young people in fashionable, trendy clothes swarming in and out. 

Bucky was leaning against a wall inside the station, next to a group of big-haired young women with too much makeup on, wearing frilly tops and short flirty skirts, and intensely texting on their flip cell phones attached with dangly things. 

The note had not indicated where inside Shibuya but he had a feeling it would not be an issue. 

Sure enough, as his watch hit four, a man walked up and inclined his head slightly.

“Mr Barnes, my name is Isobe. I am Mrs Nakajima’s secretary. I am to fetch you to her.” He was in his late forties at least and wearing a tailored black suit. He seemed unarmed although even if he had been, it would not have overly concerned Bucky.

“Who’s Nakajima?”

Isobe only smiled agreeably. 

He pushed himself off the wall and indicated for the man to lead on. 

Isobe tilted his head again to acknowlege and they left through one of the many station exits to a waiting car. When Isobe opened the door of the backseat, Bucky lifted an eyebrow, shrugged and slid onto plush leather upholstery.

Everything about the car screamed privilege, position and money. Isobe himself got in the front and started the engine. He smoothly navigated through Tokyo's busy streets and Bucky wasn’t sure if the car’s make also denoted some type of rank, because it seemed the other vehicles on the road would almost deferentially pull out of its way to let it cruise through unimpeded. 

They drove for at least the better part of an hour before they were out into the suburbs with wide lawns and trees lining the side. The houses here were sprawling, luxurious and could probably be considered as mansions, with their own walls, gates and sentries at the entrances.

The car eventually drove up to a Victorian-style residence with dark brick walls and roof turrets with a large faultless garden, tastefully dotted with neat bonsai trees and shrubs.

When the sentries at the entrance saw it was Isobe behind the wheel, they immediately executed a deep bow and one pressed a button to activate the wrought iron gates which swung open with a creaking groan. 

The car slowly drove up to the main door of the house and when Bucky got out to walk through into the foyer, he was greeted by honest to goodness actual service staff, standing in two neat rows, five men in suits on one side and a corresponding line of women in old-fashioned black dresses with white collars and caps on their heads. Bucky recalled seeing similar uniforms when he was a kid and some of the women in the old neighborhood had been maids to the rich folks over at Washington Heights. 

What else he noticed was that the men were all armed underneath their suits. He assumed probably the women were too. 

“This way, Mr Barnes.” Isobe indicated to the side of the foyer, into a carpeted passageway, which opened up to a circular room. 

He briskly walked to another door located at the end of the new room to knock, pause and open it. As Bucky walked in, Isobe bowed again and retreated, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.

The room was beautifully decorated and the golden light of the late afternoon sun streamed in through a series of floor to ceiling glass panels, which looked out to another section of the gardens. 

In the middle of the room was a woman, in a dark purple silk kimono tied with a black obi. She was not young, her graying hair was pinned up in a intricate chignon. Her figure was a little plump and her features in a round-shaped face were pleasantly ordinary. 

It was Mayu Akamatsu, he was sure. Though the corners were now lined with tiny crows’ feet, she still possessed the same eyes as the little girl in his memory.

“Please take a seat, Mr Barnes.” Her voice was deep and modulated and she spoke flawless English. 

She herself sat down primly on a loveseat without waiting for his response. In front of her was a low table with ornate legs and laid out on the surface was a complete English tea-set with a teapot and delicate little china cups on saucers. 

There was something faintly surreal about the whole thing and Bucky remained standing. She poured tea out from a pot into two cups and the fragrance of some herbal mix filled the room. 

“Tea?”

“No thanks.” 

“Do you need proof I am who you are looking for?” 

One of the little cups shattered, shocking in its suddenness, tea spraying out onto the tabletop. The largest piece of broken china flew towards Bucky and the jagged edge stopped millimeters from his jugular. It hung there, in the air, motionless. 

He still remained where he stood. Even when the broken piece lifted to his cheek and drew a thin line across his skin. Blood welled up through the cut. 

_Yes, I am much stronger now_

She took a sip from her cup, eyes peering at him over the rim. 

Bucky reached up with his hand, the metal one, to pluck the piece of fine china from the air. He crunched it within his fist and dust fell to the floor. She smiled.

Her next words were spoken out loud and no longer inside his mind.

“It sounds silly, I remember you being taller. But I was only a child then. Everything’s taller when you are a child.” 

“You’re a mutant? It wasn’t in the files.”

“I supposed if you had to use a word you can understand, it would be a...mutant.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she grimaced. “A hundred, two hundred years ago, I would have been called a kitsune, a fox spirit, in Japan. I still might be regarded as one by the generation before.”

“Do you want to kill me?”

“Is that an offer?”

“I killed your parents. I tried to kill you too.”

“You remember. I thought you had when I heard you have arrived in Tokyo. Did seeing my old house did that to you? I have kept it exactly the way it was, the day it happened. Just in case. If you had gone in to see, the bloodstains would still be there in my parents’ bedroom.” She took another sip from her teacup, but her eyes were distant. “Of course they would not be red in color anymore. I’ve been informed that the neighbors think the house to be quite haunted.”

“What I did to you—” Bucky clenched his fists, “it was unforgivable. I don’t expect you to. I was changed, programmed to become a thing who could only obey its masters.”

“Aren't you still the thing they used to murder my father and then my mother.” 

“I'm not him anymore.”

“So if I were to take my revenge on you, would you promise not to fight back?” Her gaze sharpened. 

Bucky faltered. Months ago, crushed by the guilt and shame when he started remembering, he would have replied yes without any hesitation. It was entirely in her right to demand his life from him. 

But there was Steve and there was something he had now. He had love. Not just the devotion and loyalty for a best buddy, they were still there, all along, but he was also Steve’s lover and he wanted to continue to be that, as long as he could.

“You don’t want to die?”

“No.”

“Will you kill me if the next shard goes for your left eye?”

“No.”

She laughed. “What are we going to do then, Mr Barnes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you will sit now and hear my story. It won’t take long.” 

Bucky walked over to sit down in the chair opposite hers. He owed her that much. 

She poured tea for him again, in a new cup this time. “After my parents died, every day, I thought of how I could find you and exact revenge. When I grew older, I was aware it was my father’s research which got him killed.” 

“How did you know?”

“I tracked down any scraps of information I could get, on the Winter Soldier as you were called. Soviet officials who defected from the persecution and hardships of communist Russia. Members of the organization Hydra who were not as loyal and could be bribed. Through you, I discovered the man who arranged my father’s death. Unlike you, a ghost who disappeared, that man was easily found once I knew his name. He was Masao Nakajima, head of the Nakajima Corporation, an old and very powerful family.”

“Nakajima? But that’s what Isobe called you.”

“I married his eldest son.”

“You what?”

“There was no love involved and he was the son of my enemy but it was the only way I could get close to Masao,” she said unperturbedly. 

Some of his consternation must have shown as Mayu shrugged coolly. His feelings of remorse and regret intensified. He had destroyed so much, not just the lives he extinguished but of those associated with them. 

“Would it help if I told you I learned to regard my husband with some fondness? He was a good man. Weak but good in the way such men are. I bore two children for him before he died. A natural death, if you are wondering. Masao, him, I killed soon after my marriage. Thus I became the first wife of the same family which had shattered mine.”

“I continued looking for you but as said, you were a ghost. The Hydra members I managed to bribe did not know where you were. Or my people were too late and you were already gone. I know you were kept in a cryogenic state when not required. Even with the Nakajima Corporation’s extensive resources at my disposal, I could not trace you. That is, until Shield had their little internal squabble last year.”

“Why didn’t you come after me then? Why wait until I came here. To you.”

Mayu was momentarily quiet. In the darkening room with long shadows being cast as the sun started to set, she appeared suddenly very old and tired.

“What do you remember after my parents' deaths and you knew I was there?”

“Nothing else.”

“Would you allow me to show you?”

“You can do that?”

The old woman nodded and after considering briefly, he replied, “do it then.”

Bucky's body twisted as if an unseen force was slamming him against the back of the chair and his hands clutched empty air, as a deluge of images, no it was a memory, it was Mayu’s memory, pierced his mind.

_… kid, stop that damn yelling the man in black is shouting at her. the shock stops her from the burning into the man’s head. she still wants to hurt him, otousan is lying on the floor and okasan is on the bed and everything is red, red and she screams with her mouth voice now._

_christ christ i’m sorry i didn’t want to please please i’m sorry._

_his face is frightened, he looks sweaty and sick, he’s staring around the room like he doesn’t know where he is._

_don’t make a sound don’t scream they’ll come after you too if they know what you can do listen to me kid listen_

_his hands shake her shoulders a little so she stops crying. she’s too weak to do anything._

_the man quickly looks and he pushes her over to a small cupboard. he opens it and puts her inside among the white sheets. she wants to cry again and the man shakes his head_

_no sound okay they’ll hear you i’ll draw them away they’re outside waiting for him to finish the job i’m sorry kid my name is james buchanan barnes help me find steve rogers please help me find him tell him i’m still alive_

_he shuts the cupboard and there is darkness except for the sliver of light shining in from the crack of the doors_

_she crouches, there is more sounds, fighting sounds, downstairs, flesh being punched and things breaking and a shout of pain_

_the sound of a body being dragged and the house is quiet again…_

…Bucky opened his eyes. The room was almost completely dark, the sun having set, leaving the sky a dark indigo blue. Letting him recover, Mayu stood up from the chair and slowly made her way round to flick on the several lamps placed around the room. 

“I asked you to find Steve,” he said, wonderingly. 

“You did. You told me your name so it was simple enough to discover who James Buchanan Barnes is and who Steve Rogers is. American war heroes. When your Captain America was found, I still remained quiet. I did not inform him you were alive.”

He couldn’t blame her even if he wanted to. He had destroyed her life.

“No, not because of what you think.” Mayu tapped a finger against her cup and her clear, intelligent eyes, at odds with the rest of her placid grandmotherly appearance, bore into Bucky. 

“I did not tell him because I was heartsick with the things I have myself committed. The thought of revenge against you has obsessed me for most of my life. But you were a phantom and my abilities are limited to my sight. So I have freely collaborated with those who have done evil to others in order to find you. I have taken lives where I saw fit. My children do not love me, they fear me. I have ignored them their entire lives because mine was foolishly spent hunting you.”

“I did not inform Steve Rogers of you because I had reached an understanding by then. I had become a demon.” 

Bucky hung his head, staring down at his metal hand, the ever present reminder of the Winter Soldier. “I did that to you, didn’t I. We're both monsters.”

A hand lightly touched his shoulder. It was Mayu was standing over him. 

“We are not alike. You were made, against your will, to become a monster. I had a choice and I still chose to be one.”

“You still do not understand? I am releasing your debt to me because you gave up your chance at freedom from your enslavers to save me on that day. Because I think you are a good man despite everything.”

Bucky was careful when he placed his palm over her hand; he felt how brittle her fingers were. 

“I…thank you.” 

When he released his hold, she returned to sit in her chair. “However, I do have a request.”

“Name it.”

“Go home. Return home with your Steve. There’s nothing more you can do.”

“So I should go home and pretend nothing happened? It’s not just your folks. I’ve hurt so many more.”

“And would those you search for be any happier when you tell them you were the one who took away the ones they loved? That an assassin actually hunted them as part of a larger conspiracy? How would it help? Those who knows, knows. Those who don’t, let them make their own peace. You will find the hardest thing to do is to let go of the past. But you are learning to do it when you said you didn’t want to die.”

A loud crash sounded outside the room, shouts and fighting and…the unmistakable whistling sound of a shield flying through the air and hitting a target with a dull thud. Bucky rose quickly. 

“He’s earlier than I expected. Mr Rogers has arrived.”

“Steve’s here? But how—don’t hurt him.”

“A note with this address was passed to him after you left the hotel. And of course I’m not going to hurt him. Oh dear, I must speak with him, my staff are merely trying to defend me.” 

Mayu closed her eyes briefly. Bucky had no doubt she was doing her telepathic thing to Steve at the moment. 

“Is he always so…determined?” she asked, opening her eyes.

“You have no idea.”

The door slammed open and a livid looking Steve was standing there. His eyes instantly took in Bucky’s presence inside the room, to his face, at the cut on his cheek from Mayu’s demonstration of her power earlier. He turned to the offender, still sitting calmly in her chair.

“If you need to hurt someone, take me instead. Leave Bucky alone.” 

“Steve!”

Ignoring Bucky, he plowed on. “I know he killed your folks and being sorry doesn’t come close to cutting the score even but he didn’t want to do it. He was forced to, he didn’t have a choice. He was tortured for years, you can’t begin to imagine. It was Hydra and the man who contracted the hit from them. They’re the ones you should be looking for, not him.” 

Steve was pissed, Bucky could tell.

“Who says I haven’t already.” Mayu gave a smile, sly and full of secrets, and for a moment, she did resemble a fox despite the plumpness and lines on her face. “Those are my affairs and Mr Barnes no longer is one of them.”

She stood up, smoothing the front of her kimono. “Our business is at an end. Isobe will drive you back to your accommodations.” 

“I shall not see you again. Goodbye.” Her fox-like eyes were not kind but there was no open enmity from her that he could sense any more. 

And there was nothing more left to say. She walked towards the door without a glance, the wooden clogs on her feet making tiny, delicate clacks on the timber flooring, and left the room.

There was a strange expression on Steve’s face, as if he was listening to something that only he could hear.

After a moment, he said, “we’re leaving,” without preamble.

Isobe appeared out of the blue, still smiling as he guided them towards the front of the house and into the same waiting car that had chauffeured Bucky here. 

“You mad at me?” was asked at one point of the journey, as they re-entered into the city.

Steve answered without hesitation. “Damn straight.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“When I decided somehow it was a good plan to trust Brock Rumlow’s word and got my ass self captured by Hydra, and you had to come and rescue me, you know how you felt then?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling that right now.”

“Oh.”

And silence fell over in the car again. 

Alighting in front of the hotel, Isobe got out with them and he bowed to Bucky, more deeply than he had before.

“Thank you,” Isobe said, “for allowing Nakajima sama her life.” 

Before he could say anything in reply, the secretary got back in the car and drove off.

~~~~~

“Sit,” Steve ordered tersely they were back in their room. 

He sat on the edge of the bed obediently. The sheets had been changed and the bed had been made in their absence by the cleaning staff. He fervently prayed there hadn't been any cum stains on the previous sheets.

Steve dropped his shield on the chair before entering the bathroom. When he came out, there was a wet towel in his hand and he knelt between Bucky’s legs, cupped his chin and turning it to the side so he could clean the cut on the cheek.

Bucky grunted. He didn’t like to be fussed over but Steve was holding on to his chin firmly and wouldn’t let go. “I’m fine.”

Tight-lipped despite the reassurance he was unharmed, Steve stood up, cloth clenched in his hand. 

“You scared the shit out of me. I was worried sick for you. And you used sex with me as a diversion tactic.”

Bucky had the grace to look abashed. He was going to explain when Steve interrupted.

“Take your clothes off,” he said, in a reversal of himself being ordered to do so earlier.

“What?” 

“Need to verify for possible injuries.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Take them off.”

With a bemused look, Bucky got to his feet and slowly executed what was essentially a perfunctory striptease. The hoodie was dragged over his head, along with the t-shirt underneath, baring his chest. He bent and unlaced his boots before kicking them off. 

His hands went to the snap of his jeans and he raised his eyes to Steve’s, who was gazing on impassively, shrugged and unclasped the button and fly. In one smooth motion, he pushed the jeans down to his hips. He sat on the bed again to completely take them the rest of the way off.

He continued to sit on the edge, as if asking now what? 

“On the bed. Hands and knees.” 

Eyes suddenly blown wide, Bucky hesitated. Steve gave him time to decide.

After a minute, he scrambled up the bed and turning away, he positioned himself as directed. Head hanging down, hair falling to shadow his face, he felt the bed dipped as Steve climbed on. He tried to remember to breathe.

Nothing happened for a few minutes and he began to wonder if this was some bizarre punishment devised for him, like being made to stand in the corner of the schoolroom for misbehaving.

He was deciding to risk a look when a body draped over his, warm and big, still dressed, and Steve moved in between the back of his splayed legs, pressing into his buttocks. Hands started to touch him, roaming over his chest and back, and the sides of his arms, under them to his neck. 

A groan escaped when his nipples were rolled between fingers, and then pinched and pulled. There was a brief flare of pain as he was milked thus, followed by heady pleasure tingling through his whole body.

When Steve was satisfied he had mapped every inch of skin above Bucky’s waist, he began to move his hands on the lower back in large broad circles, before running down the back of his legs and up again. He deliberately skipped the fat cock hanging, swaying a little, between the legs. 

“Steve…” Bucky moaned. This was new, this prolonged teasing. Or was it even teasing? Was he _actually_ serious when he said he was checking for injuries? 

But while Steve would never be cruel, he was never this angry before too. Even with his regained memories, Bucky don’t think he had ever seen Steve being this mad at him before and they had fought as best friends did sometimes, growing up in Brooklyn.

“Sorry,” he repeated again.

“I thought you could be dead,” Steve said, behind him. The hands continued to roam around his lower back and finally settled on the buttocks. Kneading and squeezing the globes, leaving raised, red marks of fingerprints on the flesh.

“But I’m not, yeah?” He tried to move. Lifting his head and twisting his chest to look back but a hand descended between his shoulder blades to push him firmly around again. He was sure Steve wouldn't hurt him but he had to admit he was just a little on the side of uneasy. And still hard as a rock. 

His buttocks were gripped, pulled apart and he started. His hole was stretched almost uncomfortably and he was still tender from their earlier fuck. He wasn’t certain if he could handle Steve’s dick a second time, even if he was loose and slick inside from leftover lube and remnants of cum.

He tensed. 

And a damp cloth was being dragged across his anus and perineum, swiping the skin carefully. Then a fold of the towel was gently pushed inside, massaging the inner passage, and he felt the residues of semen being cleaned out.

Bucky melted. Steve would never hurt him. Of everyone in this messed up world, Steve would be the one who loved him the most. Accepted him for who he was unconditionally. 

Steve lightly petted his hole, his thumb rubbing against it, as he cleaned him. “Sore?” he asked. 

“A little...”

When the towel was replaced by a hot tongue, rasping against the puckered folds of his hole, Bucky cried out, sharp and shocked. 

He was being held open with large hands, and Steve was pushing his face in between his buttocks, and sucking and laving him there, with broad, wet stripes. He never even imagined the man would know of this lewd act, let alone perform it on him.

His knees buckled when the tongue narrowed and started pushing. Without missing a beat, Steve hauled him back up with arms clasped around his waist, holding him aloft, and continued to shallowly fuck him with the tip of his tongue.

The weird thing was, besides feeling so fucking unbelievable, the rimming did help to soothe some of the soreness and he came without his cock needing to be touched, pulsating as it spurted out through its slit.

He reached behind him with one hand, stroking the blonde head. “Feels better already.”

Steve stopped to kneel up, his lips swollen red and shiny with spit. He lifted Bucky and rolled him over to lie on his back, away from the wet spot on the bed, and settled his body between Bucky’s legs, the fabric of his pants creating a pleasurable friction against bare thighs. 

Supported by his hands, he stared down at Bucky who squirmed a little, under him, under the intense scrutiny.

He stretched his arm up to stroke a cheek, liking it when Steve nuzzled against his palm. “Don’t be mad anymore?”

“She said you were trying to protect me from her.”

“Mayu?”

“You’re an incredibly stupid and reckless asshole.”

“Look who’s talking. You told me to take all the stupid with me, remember.”

“I didn’t know if I could reach you in time.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and legs around his waist as the core of Steve's fear was laid bare. He would make it up to him, for making him feel like that.

“She said I was a good man.”

“You need a second opinion?”

Bucky thumped him with a fist on his back. “Punk.” 

“Jerk.”

Like that, he knew things were good between them again. 

Later, he’ll tell Steve he was ready to go home. Mayu was right. Letting go of the past would be the hardest thing to do and even so, he didn’t think he could completely do it. The Winter Soldier would always be a part of him, he couldn’t change that. But the Soldier was not the sum of his being.

There was the new Game of Thrones season to watch with Bruce. Starting snarky little fights with Stark just because. Maybe he would finally meet Thor whom he seemed to keep missing out on. Duke it with Barton on the range to see who the best shot really was. Tell Natasha he had probably discovered the best tasting piroshki in the whole city. Have Sam to volunteer him at the local V.A.

And there would always be avenging to do. Maybe he would go with Steve on some of them. Watch his back. Kick some Hydra butt. Or kick aliens from outer space with spaceships butt.

These things and more he wanted to do when he was home. 

In the meantime, there was something else he needed to do. He lifted his head to close the gap between them and kissed his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I said I was going to take a break but there was a bad day, I thought of writing a smutty Stucky ficlet to cheer myself up and it ballooned into smut and seriousness. It turned out darker than I expected although there's still some humor here and there. I think my style might evolve to become dark, slightly crack and smut. Huh. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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